


Palace of Water and Stone

by madame_midnight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Childbirth, F/M, Female Friendship, Forced Pregnancy, Harem, Lactation, Light Bondage, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Setting - Antiquity, Setting - Historical, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Trust Issues, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_midnight/pseuds/madame_midnight
Summary: When her homeland is invaded by a young emperor from the west, Aja, a young musician, is captured with her princess and carried into slavery in a distant land. Seeking protection in the foreign harem, she turns to the last person she thought might be an ally - the triumphant general who brought her there.





	Palace of Water and Stone

AFTER WEEKS OF SIEGE, the walls fell in the early morning. All across the city there rose cries of panic as the invaders poured in and your people tried to fight or flee as they were able. So few of the king’s men remain to guard the palace that his daughter is left alone with her half-dozen and some female servants - maids, seamstresses, her confidante, and you, a musician - to await the inevitable. With all the calmness she can muster, she orders her hair braided and dressed with her most regal jewels and distributes what little food remains in this wing of the palace amongst the girls to keep them from panicking. Better to be abducted together or die cleanly than to run out and be killed in the chaos enveloping the city.

            When the shouting and killing from the streets reaches the perfumed halls just after midday, there is barely enough time to say a prayer of thanks that the princess’ sisters are all safely married in distant realms before the invaders are at the doors to her rooms, swarming in with their blades bloody and bare. One of the maids draws a fruit knife and valiantly places herself between the princess and their leader, a tall, lean man with a bright red scarf wrapped around his helm, only to be run through for her bravery. You hold back a scream, huddled with the others, but only barely.

            “Leave the princess,” the leader commands, flicking blood off his sword and stepping over the maid’s body. “Help yourself to the rest; our battle is done.”

            Permission given, his men lunge forward, but instead of ransacking the priceless treasures around you, they grab for the servants, who scream and flee. You try to run, but your long dress tangles around your legs and are caught by the first man who reaches to capture you. He forces you down onto your hands and knees, tearing your skirts away as you hear the princess struggle against the leader, holding her by her long braids.

            “Please!” she begs. “Take anything you want, take me, but don’t hurt them!”

            But her pleading wins you no mercy; instead, a second warrior grabs your hair and forces your head up while he fumbles the ties of his pants, distracting you from the moment of penetration as the first thrusts into you from behind. The stretching, ripping pain drives you over the edge, and you scream until a heavy cock fills your mouth, muffling the sound of your sobs. You resist the only way you can and try to bite down, making the warrior yell and strike you, open-handed, across the face, sending you reeling despite the rough hands holding your hips in place.

            “Try that again,” he warns, picking up his blade and holding it to your throat, “you’ll lose your head, whore.” You just nod, tears streaming down your cheeks, and he resumes fucking your face.

You sway on all fours, pushed back and forth by the rhythm of their thrusts. The princess yells your name, but it is useless; you can hear another of the maids screaming in the next room as the invaders rape her, and the girls who made it as far as the garden before being caught and violated. You hear the princess’ confidante, a bold young woman who held the respect of all who knew her, fighting back until her struggles are cut short by the swing of a sword.

            The warrior behind you grunts and breaks stride, and you feel the hot gush of his seed pool in your belly before he slaps your ass and pulls out, stepping aside for the next man to have a turn in you. No sooner does the next one start pushing his way inside you than does the warrior in your mouth give his own little shudder of warning before he is coming in spurts down your throat.

            Everything is so wrong; coughing and choking on the thick seed of a foreign soldier in this room where you once sat in one of the carved windows and plucked the strings of delicate instruments in time to the passing summer rains, entertaining the princess and her guests with your clear, pretty voice. How could these things happen under the same painted ceiling where lantern light danced late into the night, the girls begging for one more song before they went to bed?

            A man paints your face white and you go silent and limp, overwhelmed by memories of lovelier times and unable to reconcile them with the reality ravaging your body.

\- - - -

ONCE THE FLAMES ENGULFING the city have burned to ashes and the men have finished their looting, it is two months’ journey to the capitol in distant foreign lands, two months of long days spent plodding down dirt roads in shackles with your hands lashed to the back of a cart filled with treasures from the palace where you used to live and cold nights spent huddled together with your princess and what remains of her household for warmth.

            She walks next to you under the hot sun, dressed in the same rags and fed with the same scraps the young general makes sure the rest of the girls receive twice a day. The only special treatment the princess receives from him is protection from his warriors. You and the others are not so lucky; night after night you are sent to serve wine and comfort to the men around the fires after a long day of riding.

            “Aja...”

            You look up from tending your own campfire one night to hear the princess calling your name in a whisper. “My lady,” you reply, “you’re still awake?”

            “Yes,” she says, coming to sit beside you. The closer you get to the sea, the stronger the winds become, chilling you to your bones at night. “Eleri just fell asleep,” the princess explains, referring to the shy chambermaid, the youngest of her former household, who still cries herself to sleep every night even after weeks of being passed around by the soldiers. Of the women who once served the princess, all that remain are yourself, humble Eleri, and Taru: once a seamstress with nimble fingers and a quicker wit, now walking beside you in rags that can’t be made to cover her curvaceous figure no matter how she tries. There is no knowing the fates of the girls you left behind, if they were killed or enslaved in their own land or escaped through the chaos of the burning city.

            Pity washes over you for Eleri, but it’s hard to be compassionate when you feel so numb inside you haven’t cried since the day the invaders stormed the palace. Taru is the same way; it is a rare evening when you can draw more than two words out of her at a time. Knowing that the princess is the one who usually comforts the girl until her tears stop falling long enough for her to get some sleep, you tell her, “She was hurting again today; I think that’s why she’s been so upset.”

            The princess nods, then her eyes widen as she catches your meaning. A month ago, you were complaining of all the same aches and pains from walking as Eleri does now, how the hard, dry flatbread and smoked meats the soldiers carried on the road made your stomach turn. Then you felt the tenderness in your breasts, but no blood accompanied it, which you expected from the hunger and stress inflicted upon you. However, while the other girls grew thin and wiry from the ordeals of the road, you alone saw your waist thicken, and you stopped talking about how much your back hurt as you realized the cause of your pains.

            Glancing at Eleri, fast asleep next to Taru a short distance away, the princess shakes her head. “The poor girl...” she murmurs. “Should we say something? Prepare her?”

            The firelight dances, reflecting off your dark eyes. “No,” you say firmly. “She’s young; she won’t know for a few months yet, maybe not even until it quickens. Let her keep her innocence as long as she can.” It would be cruel to tell her now, to let her spend that much longer dreading the inevitable. You hug your knees to your chest, already able to feel the bump growing between your hips, spreading its roots into your belly and taking hold of your insides. It feels like a rot eating away at you.

            An arm falls across your shoulders, and you flinch before realizing it is only the princess, supporting you the way she used to, in happier times. “Come,” she says, “get some sleep. Garan says it’s a long way to go tomorrow.”

            “Garan?” you ask around a yawn.

            “The leader,” she explains, “the general with the red scarf. I heard his men call him that. They said we’re four days away from the city, but he told them we’ll make it in three. He sounds eager to be home...” The princess lowers her voice to avoid drawing the attention of the warriors on watch. “I’ve noticed... he hasn’t touched any of you, has he?”

            Pushing back the nausea that rises in your stomach every time you recall the burning of the palace, you sift through your memories, but only remember the young general giving orders and distributing food, keeping watch over the princess, never among his men when you and the girls pour wine around the fires. “No,” you say, begrudgingly, for even if he has yet to partake in the ongoing rape, he was the one who gave permission for the soldiers to violate you in the first place, “he hasn’t.”

            “I wonder why...”

            “Does it matter?” you say abruptly, making the princess flinch away. Immediately, you regret snapping at her. “Let’s get some sleep,” you suggest, ready to put the day behind you and face the next.

            She nods, and follows you away from the fire to join the others under a thin blanket. You lay down next to Eleri, sandwiching her between your body and Taru’s to keep the girl warm, and feel the princess curl up behind you. Her arms wrap around your waist, squeezing tight and warming the hard lump growing in the pit of your belly.

            You pillow your head on your bent arm and drift off to the flickering of embers.

\- - - -

AT LAST, YOU COME WITHIN sight of the walls rising out of the cliffs on this rocky shoreline, so far from the plains that were all you knew before this. Above the city sits a palace many times greater than the one you left behind, with grand towers and carved parapets and balconies that you imagine must give the feeling of living among the clouds.

            On the morning before you enter the city, the general calls a halt and orders the princess bathed while his men display their loot and trophies. Her body is cleaned of dust and grime, her hair braided and adorned as befits a princess for the first time in weeks. But Garan denies her clothes, only allowing Taru and Eleri to drape her naked body with a shroud of fabric so sheer it is translucent in the sun, weighing it down with gold and precious jewels stolen from your ravaged homeland before leading her, still shackled, into the capitol.

            There are no baths or jewels for you and the girls marching behind her, but no shackles, either, though your hands remain bound, tied by long ropes to the saddle of Garan’s horse. Instead, your status is marked by collars, slim circlets of dull metal bolted around your necks and glinting where they rest on your collarbones. Even if you remain in service of the princess, you will live out the remainder of your days as slaves in this foreign land.

            You are paraded through the city with the spoils of war, people admiring the princess’ jewels and nubile body alike. The victorious general marches her in front of his horse for all to see, showing off his might in having captured such a prize for the emperor. But you see none of the splendors of the capitol, eyes trained on your bare feet in shame as you follow them, aware of the rags you wear and your hands bound before you, of Taru stumbling on the cobblestone road and Eleri weeping quietly at your side.

            An hour’s walk uphill through the crowded streets brings you to the gates of the palace where a man waits, alone, wearing a richly embroidered robe draped over one shoulder and a gleaming golden band upon his brow. At first you assume, because of his youth, that he is a noble or high official sent to welcome you, but Garan immediately dismounts his horse and goes to greet him, at first warmly grasping his forearm, then pulling him into a tight embrace, and you realize this is your first glimpse of the conquering emperor.

            After a few moments catching up, the young general returns to untie you and the others from his horse, leading the three of you and the princess forward to present her to the emperor. He says something loud and boastful in his own language before pushing her into his friend’s arms, and the emperor catches her with ease and appreciative eyes.

            With a snap of his fingers, a servant comes forth and bows; the emperor slaps the princess’ bottom and laughs with the crowd before giving an order. Seeing your princess so brazenly humiliated awakens the only emotion you have left in your heart. In a rage, you forget yourself and step towards your new captor, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your arm.

            “Let me go!” you growl between gritted teeth, but Garan only squeezes tighter and pulls you back.

            The princess is led beyond the gate by the servant, and the general bends slightly to speak in your ear. “You can die here, if that’s what you want,” he says quietly in your own tongue. “But if you want your mistress to have a friend inside the harem, you’ll swallow your pride and go with her.”

            His words make you go still. For all you wish revenge for your life, for Eleri’s stolen innocence, you vowed long ago to serve the princess faithfully. You cannot abandon her, friendless, in a foreign land for the sake of making a futile display of resistance.

            You stop struggling, and nod to show you understand.

            The moment Garan releases you, the rope around your wrists pulls tight, and you are led within the towering walls of this great stone palace to the sound of the emperor’s triumphant speech and thunderous applause from his adoring subjects.


End file.
